Body on the Bayou (19 page)

Pelican PD screeched into the cul-de-sac as Bo was cuffing Stevens. They were followed by three unmarked cars from a different branch of law enforcement—the FBI. Bringing up the rear was a familiar, slightly battered minivan sporting a magnetic placard that read, “Crozat Family Bed and Breakfast, Offering Homey Historic Hospitality.” The van parked halfway into the street, and Tug leaped out, followed by Ninette. They ran up to Gran’ and Maggie, who were giving their statements to Chief Perske. The chief was showing off for the FBI by flexing his territorial muscle, which only seemed to amuse the agents. “Feel free to pee on this hydrant,” one of them told him with a shrug, then loped into the house to retrieve Stevens.

“Thank God you’re all right,” Tug said.

“We’ve been sick with fear that something happened to you,” Ninette added. She threw her arms around Maggie as Tug hugged his mother tightly.

“I didn’t know what was going on, but I figured it was a good idea to bring in some heavy artillery,” Tug said. “So I called PPD
and
the FBI. Turns out Bo had already alerted them to the situation, and they were on their way.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Maggie said. “We’ll tell you the whole story, I promise. But right now, I just want to get home and clean up.”

“As do I,” Gran’ said. “It’s been a less-than-pleasant evening in every possible way, and I’d like to wash away any connection to it.”

Still clinging to each other, the family walked down the street to the Crozat minivan. They passed Cal Vichet and Artie Belloise, who were lounging against a squad car, watching the action. Artie was munching on a bag of Zapp’s Potato Chips. “Can you believe this?” he said, gesturing to the scene at Stevens’s house. “FBI and everything. I gotta say, Maggie, you sure brought a higher class of crime with you when you moved back home.” He winked before Maggie could protest, and she followed her grandmother into the family van.

*

“Stevens Troy seemed like such a nice old man,” Gaynell said. “How could we all have been so wrong about him?”

It had been three days since Stevens’s arrest and Vanessa’s release, and Maggie and her fellow bridesmaids were readying themselves for Vanessa’s hastily rescheduled wedding.
This time they were utilizing St. Tee’s powder room instead of Vanessa and Rufus’s trailer. Vanessa, still shaky from her false arrest, had opted to have only her mother Tookie help her prep for the big day. Since she and Rufus couldn’t afford to keep up their party tent for the wedding reception, the Crozat facilities had once again been called into service. When Maggie checked the Crozat tent before leaving for the church, she’d seen that Ione wasn’t the only guest who’d decided to freeze her potluck donation from the previous postwedding dinner. The buffet table was lined with defrosting casseroles.

“We cut Stevens slack for a lot of reasons,” Maggie said as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and clipped it in place with the LSU bow that Vanessa had insisted they all wear. “He was a widower, so we felt sorry for him. And he seemed successful, so we never thought of him being involved in some shady real estate scheme.” Maggie finished her eye makeup, then got up and walked over to Ione. “Where do you want your bow?”

“In the garbage, but since that’s not possible, stick it somewhere at the back of my head and try to hide it under my hair.”

Maggie did as instructed. “Anyway, as soon as they brought Stevens in, he tripped over himself trying to justify why he was ‘forced to take care of’ Ginger. Quentin was all ready to step in as his attorney, but Stevens refused. I think he thought it would somehow get him off the hook.”

“So he’s gone mental,” Ione commented.

“I think if you murder someone, you’re already there,” Lia said as she parted her thick, curly hair and pulled one side of it behind an ear. She affixed her LSU bow in this inconspicuous location.

“Anyway, the FBI traced seventy-five thousand dollars of the money Ginger used to buy the Callette property back to a Swiss bank account that they were able to connect to Stevens. She seems to have gotten the other fifty grand through blackmail. Houston PD interviewed several high-profile former ‘clients’ who admitted paying Ginger a lot of money to keep her from going public about their assignations. Anyway, it was just as I thought. Ginger cut Stevens out of the deal by forming Sunset Properties on her own. He confronted her, she blew him off, and he went into a rage and killed her.”

“But why did he kill Trent too?” Gaynell asked as she clipped her LSU bow into her blonde curls. “Y’all are so lucky you have brown hair. There’s no way I can hide this thing in mine.”

“Don’t fret, chère. I think I can shape some of your hair over at least part of it,” Lia said. She picked up a comb and brush and started experimenting with styles that might lessen the damage of the bright purple-and-gold hair accessory.

“Stevens had no idea that Ginger had shared her scheme with Trent, but as soon as Ginger died, Trent let Stevens know that he’d be happy to keep his mouth shut for the right price. Stevens stalled for time by agreeing to pay him and then grabbed the opportunity to both kill Trent
and
frame
Vanessa at her bachelorette party when he heard her griping about her wedding present gun from Rufus.”

“And then he kicked the whole thing up a notch by faking that heart condition.” Ione shook her head. “What a loon.”

“No, that was real,” Maggie said. She circled her eyes with a thin line of purple and then mascaraed her lashes. “I guess a double murder can be rough on a seventy-something’s heart. Horrible as this whole story is, what really chilled my bones was why he pursued Gran’. He was upset that his arrest ruined their ‘romance.’ He pretty much admitted that his game plan was to marry Gran’, then get her to change her will and leave him Crozat.”

“He had a lot of faith in his own longevity, because that plan would only work if she died before him,” Lia said. Then she gasped. “No.”

Maggie nodded grimly. “He didn’t come out and admit that he’d planned to murder her to get what he wanted, of course. But it turns out that the money he passed on to Ginger came from his late wife’s estate. She supposedly passed from natural causes, but Houston PD is taking another look at that.”

Gaynell shuddered. “Thank goodness it’s all over.” She examined herself in the mirror and smiled. “You can hardly see that ugly thing. Thanks, Lia.”

“Of course. I think we all look as lovely as possible, given the circumstances.”

“A Wednesday wedding.” Ione rolled her eyes. “Crazy on top of crazy.”

“I think at this point it’s just ‘get ’er done,’” Maggie said.

“I don’t want my staff partying too hard tonight.” Ione wagged a finger at Maggie and Gaynell. “You both still need to be at Doucet bright and early in the morning, and no dragging hangovers to work with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two tour guides chorused.

There was a tentative rap on the door. Maggie opened it a crack and peered out. She was surprised to see Fox standing there. “Hey there. I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

“I know. But I decided to come out of respect for the Fleers. I feel at least a little responsible for what they went through. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.” Maggie stepped into the hallway.

“You look very—”

“Purple,” Maggie said. “It’s okay; it’s only for a few hours. So, what’s up?”

“I wanted to thank you for helping to find Ginger’s killer. And let you know that Bibi’s going to continue the design business. I’m helping her out financially. And . . .”

“Personally?”

“We’re taking it very slow, but yes.” Fox sat down on a worn bench. “I also had to let you know something. Ginger wasn’t always . . . the way she became. That’s why I stayed with her. I remembered who she was and thought maybe I could rekindle that. Every time I was ready to give up, I’d see a glimmer of the girl I fell in love with. I wonder now if she was just playing me.”

Maggie took a seat next to Fox on the bench. The man needed to talk, and since the wedding party was still bride-free, she had some time to give him. “How long were you two together?”

“We first went out right after high school, when she moved to Houston. She was so smart and enthusiastic about life. And fun. She was always ambitious. We broke up for about a year because she felt like she was putting too much attention on her relationship and not enough on her career. That’s when she moved back to Louisiana for a while. But then out of nowhere she was back in my life with only one condition—no kids. I regret that now.”

Maggie noticed that his eyes were damp. And a unique shade of grey-green that she’d only seen once before. “Fox . . . the year you broke up. How long ago was that?”

“About twenty-two, twenty-three years ago.”

She searched for a delicate way to ask an indelicate question. “This may sound a little off the wall, but has it occurred to you that Chret might be your son?”

“What?” He gave Maggie a blank look. “Chret? The mechanic?”

He seemed unable to process the possibility, but Maggie pressed on. “The timeline of when you and Ginger broke up seems to fit. There are physical similarities. I’m not saying it’s for sure. But it’s something to think about.”

“I don’t . . . But . . . How . . . but . . . she’d give up our son?”

Maggie didn’t say anything. She let the reality sink in. Fox rubbed his forehead. “Wow. I’ve been kidding myself all these years, thinking I knew her.”

“The important thing is to talk to Chret. And figure things out for sure.”

“Yes. Right.” Fox stood up, and Maggie followed his lead. “Thank you. Again. For everything.”

Fox headed down the hall and disappeared into the church. Gaynell stuck her head out of the dressing room door. “We got a text from Tookie. They just got here. It’s show time.”

*

The bridesmaids lined up behind Vanessa outside Saint Tee’s carved wooden doors, pom-poms in hand. “Please tell me we’re not marching down the aisle to the LSU fight song,” Ione muttered to Maggie.

“I’d love to say, ‘No, that would be insane,’ but I can’t,” Maggie replied. Something bumped her lightly on the head, and she turned to see that a giant bouquet of red balloons shaped like hearts had been delivered. They strained to be freed from the weights that held them in place. “Rice and butterflies are so last century,” Tookie told the wedding party. “Instead we’re gonna have our guests release heart balloons. Pretty smart, huh? I’ll be sending that idea in to the bridal magazines.”

While Tookie babbled on, it occurred to Maggie that Vanessa had yet to utter a word since her arrival.
Must be nerves,
she thought to herself.

“Excuse me, sorry, we’re running a bit late.” Maggie recognized the voice and turned to discover Grand-mère being escorted up the church steps by Lee Bertrand. She moved over to let the couple pass, and Gran’ stopped briefly. “Like I promised, I’m allowing love into my life,” she whispered to her granddaughter. Then she went into the church with her date.

The ushers, having finished seating the smattering of guests that had shown up for a Wednesday late-afternoon wedding, came out and took their places next to the bridesmaids. Maggie slipped her arm through Bo’s and was about to head into the church when Vanessa declared, “Wait.” She grabbed Maggie by an arm and gripped it tightly. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

“Of course,” Maggie said. “I wouldn’t be much of a maid of honor if I let you spend your wedding day in jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”

“Thank you for that. And for everything.” Vanessa released Maggie and returned to her place. As the organist launched into Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” the bridal party began its procession into the church and down the aisle, parting to the left and right as they reached the altar. The organist played a flourish that indicated the bride’s arrival, and the guests stood up as Tookie led her daughter down the aisle and delivered her to Rufus. Father Prit led his usual unintelligible service, but the guests, trained by years of Catholicism, stood and kneeled by rote. Father Prit invited the bride and groom to share their own vows, and
Rufus delivered a short speech that he’d found on the Internet. Then it was Vanessa’s turn.

“Rufus,” she said, taking his hands in hers, “if there’s anything that this last week has taught me, it’s that life is short and things happen that you don’t expect.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Rufus said from the side of his mouth. The guests chuckled.

“We must be grateful for the gifts God gives us,” Vanessa continued.

“I’m looking forward to the ones our
guests
give us,” Rufus wisecracked, to more chuckles. He was on a roll.

“And we must live a pure, honest life,” Vanessa paused. “Which is why I can’t marry you.”

The guests gasped. Rufus dropped Vanessa’s hands. “
What?!
”

“I’m sorry. I thought I could go through with this, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Not when I’m in love with someone else.”

“
What?!
” Rufus repeated. “
Who?!
”

The guests leaned forward.

“The man that saved my life. Quentin MacIlhoney.”

There was another gasp from the guests, followed by dead silence. Then Rufus let out a roar. “I’ll kill him!”

The jilted groom took off on a tear down the aisle. “It’s the Crozat Curse!” he yelled at Maggie as he stormed by her. “I blame you!” He burst out of the church. The bridal party ran after him, followed by the guests, who pushed and shoved each other as they stumbled outside onto the church
steps, eager to witness the next turn of events. They were rewarded when Vanessa let out a scream.

“Help! My water just broke!”

Tookie sprinted to her daughter’s side. She jostled Maggie, who bumped into the balloon bouquet. It broke free from its weighted moorings, and as the wedding descended into total chaos, Maggie watched the heart balloons waft up into the sky and float away.

Maggie had long ago realized that Pelican was the kind of place where it seemed like nothing happened for a very long time or everything happened all at once. The week after Rufus and Vanessa’s ‘Wedding That Wasn’t’ turned out to be one of the latter times.

Despite being three weeks early, Vanessa’s infant girl weighed in at ten pounds, four ounces, leaving many in Pelican to wonder how much the infant would have weighed had she been full-term. Vanessa decamped from the trailer she shared with Rufus to Quentin’s Baton Rouge McMansion, bringing along baby Charlotte Elizabeth Diana, a little Cajun princess who would forever share a name with England’s real princess. Pelican phones blew up with news of the scandalous pairing, which fazed neither Vanessa nor Quentin. “What can I say, I’ve always had a soft spot for a
damsel in criminal distress,” the defense attorney told Maggie. “At least she’s innocent. My last two wives were guilty as hell.” As an engagement present for his future wife, Quentin paid Maggie to paint Rufus out of the ill-fated portrait she’d spent months working on and paint him in instead.

Rufus dealt with the blow to his marital status and ego by turning his trailer into party central for Pelican’s resident miscreants. When Maggie heard that he’d refused to visit his newborn daughter, she decided to risk being subjected to the verbal abuse he might heap on her and join Bo in entreating the new dad to be in his child’s life. Fortunately for her, Ru was so drunk when they showed up that she wasn’t sure he even recognized her. “Who cares anyway, it’s a girl,” he slurred. “I wanted a dang son. At least I’m honest about it instead of all the people who say, ‘I don’t care as long as the baby’s healthy.’ Bull. Men want boys and women want girls, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.”

It was at this point that Bo threw Rufus into a cold shower and then shoved him into a car for the trip to Baton Rouge, where he met his newborn daughter and fell completely in love. “Sweet, sweet Charli,” he cooed to the sleeping infant in his arms as tears coated his three-day stubble. “You are the love of my life. And I am gonna be a better man for you.”

Rufus made good on his promise by joining a large group of Pelican’s citizens at Ninette’s Yes We PeliCAN! 10K Walk for the Cure. He even chose to be magnanimous about what part the Crozat Curse might have played in the dissolution of his relationship with Vanessa. But Ru didn’t do a complete one-eighty. On his way to the restroom in Maggie’s art
studio, he spotted her caricature of Vanessa as a pregnant Valkyrie and gleefully used it as a substitute for toilet tissue.

The fundraiser was a huge success, and even more money was raised when Maggie auctioned off the diamond watch Quentin had told her she could keep. Artie and Cal, along with JJ of all people, chipped in for the winning bid. The watch would rotate between the three on a weekly basis. At the party after the event—because what event in Pelican didn’t end with a party?—Maggie delighted her friends with the news that she’d received the Baylors’ permission to let them adopt Brooke’s and Jolie’s offspring. Her one proviso was that Xander would still get to name the kitties and have first pick of a pet. Chret Bertrand then thrilled the crowd by announcing that he would match the money the Walk raised with a donation from his inheritance. “I’m still gonna keep on at the garage,” he told the Crozats as his now-official girlfriend, Gaynell, stood beaming by his side. “But it’s nice to have a little breathing room. And I’m gonna hire vets in the area to help me fix up the old Callette place. It’ll be good for us. Like a kind of therapy. And my dad said he’d help. ‘My dad.’ Still feels weird to say that.” A DNA test had proved Maggie’s instinct correct. Fox was Chret’s birth father, and the businessman was determined to form a bond with the son he never knew he had. To prove his commitment, he designated Chret as the beneficiary of Ginger’s life insurance policy; an e-mail thread proved that he had doubled it not for nefarious reasons but because his financial advisor recommended doing so.

The party finally wound down. As the revelers headed to Junie’s for an after party—because what party in Pelican didn’t end with an after party?—Maggie watched them go from her perch on the veranda glider.

“Mind if I join you?”

Maggie looked up to see Bo, who was holding a paper bag. She moved over to make room for him. The two glided back and forth for a minute. “So . . .” he finally said. “I had a long talk with Whitney.”

“I’m sorry. I never should have said anything. It was one of those stupid ‘I may die so I’m going to open my big mouth’ moments.”

“No, I’m glad you did say something. She needs to deal with the reality of her life. I reminded her of all the reasons we got divorced in the first place and made it clear that romance was part of our past, not our future.”

“I hope she’s okay.”

“She will be. She’s flying out to Saudi Arabia to spend a couple of weeks with Zach. They need that. So I’ll be a single dad for a while.” Bo paused. “You didn’t trust me, did you? You thought there was a chance I might be tempted to take up with Whitney again.”

“What? No, I . . .” Maggie’s protests sounded so hollow that she couldn’t bear listening to herself. “Yes. Yes, I did. It’s just that Whitney is so delicate and beautiful, and I’m . . . And then Johnny said . . .”

Maggie stopped herself. It seemed unfair to tattle on Johnny and drag him into her vortex of insecurity. But Bo’s brown-black almond eyes narrowed. “What did Johnny say?”

“Nothing,” Maggie responded meekly.

“Here’s the deal with Johnny Tucker. He’s a good cop and real entertaining, but he’s the devil. Whit and I broke up for a couple of weeks during college, and he was on her in a white-hot minute. He can find a vulnerability and work his way into it. It’s a great skill for interrogating suspects, but dangerous when it comes to women.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not vulnerable,” Maggie said. They rocked in the glider as Bo waited for her to continue. “I was devastated when my relationship in New York ended. Chris and I were together for six years. When I gave him some space to decide whether or not we should get married, and he used that time to hook up with someone else and marry
her,
it killed me.” Maggie took a deep breath. “Wow, I thought time would make it easier to talk about this, but it still makes me feel sick inside. I thought I’d be planning my wedding, not living at home with my parents at thirty-two. I do love it here now, and I’m slowly finding my way, but . . . I have trouble trusting a relationship. I have trouble believing that anyone really wants me.”

The only sound came from the glider creaking back and forth. Then Bo spoke. “I also told Whitney that I was in love with someone. Deeply in love. Someone who’s smart and talented and generous and kind, and who always has paint stains somewhere on her, and usually smells a little bit like turpentine. She sometimes blurts things out without thinking, and I would not want to tick her off and get on the wrong side of her wit. But I know that she’d lie across train tracks for me and for Xander. She makes me feel safe
and loved, and I would feel like my life truly had meaning if she could say the same of me one day.”

Maggie gave up trying to control her tears as they streamed down her cheeks. “This may be the wrong time, but I’ve got something for you,” Bo said.

He handed Maggie the paper bag. She reached in and pulled out a small, matte-glazed pottery vase. The background was of a blue-green shade that seemed nocturnal. A full moon peeked through the Spanish moss–laden branches of a repoussé oak tree. “Oh, Bo . . .”

“I talked to Lia about how I wanted to get you something personal and special, and then she told me about Newcomb Pottery. Look at the bottom.”

Maggie turned the vase over. There it was—the mark of her great-aunt, Sylvie Doucet. “I’m trying to find the words that could tell you how much this means to me. But I don’t think they exist.”

Bo put his arms around her and kissed the crown of her head. A sudden rustling distracted both of them. They glanced toward Crozat’s entryway and saw Xander standing in the doorway clutching a piece of paper, his face strained with anxiety. Maggie wiped her eyes with her hand. “Hey, buddy, no worries, these are tears of joy.” Xander relaxed and wandered over to her. “What’s that?” she asked, motioning to the piece of paper in his hand. He held it out, and she took it. “You named the kittens. That’s great.” Xander had spoken a few words since emerging from his selective mutism, but he had yet to form a full sentence. His psychologist recommended letting him proceed at his own pace but okayed the
occasional gentle prompt. Maggie handed the piece of paper back to the boy. “Any chance you could read the names to us? There are only three.”

Xander nodded solemnly. “Picasso,” he read in his sweet voice.

Bo gave him a thumbs-up, and Maggie clapped. “I love it,” she said. “I was afraid I was boring you when I threw in some art history with our lessons, but I guess not. What’s the next one?”

Xander looked down at his list. “Skywalker.”

“Wow, a completely different way to go,” Maggie commented. “And also terrific. I can’t wait to hear what you named the last kitten.”

Xander started to speak, but stopped. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder. Bo peeked at the list in Xander’s hand, then blinked and cleared his throat. “You can do it,” he whispered to his son.

Xander pulled himself away from Bo. Maggie gave the boy an encouraging smile. He handed her the list, and his small hand clutched hers. Xander looked her in the eye, maintaining contact for the first time since she had known him.

“I named the last kitten Maggie,” he said.